


last will and testament

by bibliophilo



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Existential Angst, M/M, Sharing a Body, tfw your homie makes out with your host
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliophilo/pseuds/bibliophilo
Summary: Ghost that he is, Yuuto can't do much to help Yuuya, but some things it seems Yuuya's perfectly capable of handling on his own (whether Yuuto likes it or not).





	

The darkness is back.

Was it ever truly gone to begin with?

Yuuto is so, so tired.

How long has he been awake now? Maybe a couple of days, when exertion had been limited to brief spurts, evading the enemy’s notice as they moved their wounded from safehouse to safehouse. But this—

“—summon Dark Rebellion—”

Yes, that’s his monster, isn’t it? It’s a challenge even to _think_ in this state, but if his dragon has taken to the field they must still have a chance.

The darkness surges. He does the best he can in his bone-weary state to beat it back.

It’s _alive_ , somehow, waves of bloodthirst and blind rage rolling off it in a steady, venomous pulse. Yuuto no longer has a body to call his own, but he pictures with disturbing ease the shadowy ripples engulfing him entirely, unseen tentacles lashing around the memory of his waist and wrists and ankles and dragging him down until he’s drowning, deeper, deeper, deeper.

It’s not altogether inaccurate.

“—direct attack!”

He relaxes; the duel is over, and he is no longer needed for the moment. The seething shadows take him the moment his guard is lowered as if in poor compensation for their true target, plunging him into their depths where he cannot see or hear or feel a thing, nothing but the abyss on all sides. He would struggle if he had anything to struggle with, but not for long, anyhow.

He sleeps.

It is a terrible thing not to know if he will wake again.

* * *

It begins, as most things do, with a duel.

Removed as he is from the physical plane, Yuuto depends on Sakaki Yuuya’s body for his continual existence. This isn’t often a problem in itself; Yuuya possesses considerable stamina and agility born from years of Action Duel training, and his physical strength (while not quite up to the standards of Yuuto’s original form) is nothing to scoff at, either. But it does mean that his fatigue has a direct impact on Yuuto’s own energy, and right now, in the third round of the Junior Youth Championship with minimal LP against an Obelisk Force squad of three, it’s taking all of Yuuto’s concentration just to maintain consciousness.

The situation is grim but not yet _dire_ ; he’s beaten worse odds himself, as has the boy whose body he now inhabits. But the body in question is throwing off rather alarming signals; he can sense the rapid, arrhythmic heartbeat, the dull but insistent pounding in the base of Yuuya’s skull, the sluggish movements of his limbs as if through a filter, as though Yuuya’s body is the phantom ache he’s been missing since he lost his.

Since he died.

It scares him with how easy it is to forget, sometimes.

For what feels like the thousandth attempt Yuuto reaches out, probing despite a lack of anything to probe with, seeking ~~some~~ _any_ form of communication with his host. Yuuya’s own mind remains frustratingly out of reach as ever, dazzling and colourful (though not as much as Yuuto had expected, when he’d first regained awareness and decided he’d done nothing to deserve an afterlife like this) and always, always untouchable.

He wishes his eerie companion had similar difficulties.

_can help_

Maybe they do need help. But not from this _thing_ that rages and beguiles by turns, gentle pulsations in the void surrounding him belying its cruel nature.

_help him_

And maybe it can. But Yuuto hasn’t forgotten the boy from Ryozanpaku; not the way he took the beating without complaint because he had always done unto others as would now be done to him, not the misdirected fury lighting them white-hot from the inside out, not the dreadful hush over the stadium when it was over. Certainly not the horror and guilt Yuuya carried with him afterwards, turned inward and staining his turbulent thoughts the murky, mottled colour of a fresh bruise.

Yuuto won’t let it happen again. Whatever the enemy deserves, this isn’t what he wants.

Even as Yuuya falters now, dread turning his stomach to lead as he braces himself for the final blow, Yuuto knows with grim certainty it’s not what _he_ wants, either.

“—trap—restore Life—”

The voice does not belong to his host (Yuuto would have felt his mouth move, dry throat rasping raw with the effort of speech), but it _is_ familiar. He peers through Yuuya’s tired eyes, but has no control over where he turns; fortunately, Yuuya’s head snaps up of his own accord, field of view expanding rapidly as his eyes widen.

_Shun_ , Yuuto thinks.

“Kurosaki?” Yuuya croaks.

Shun roundly ignores them both, but Yuuya’s attention is caught by his duel disk, where the numbers displayed on his LP gauge are rapidly ticking upward with a faint, electronic _whirrr_. A cursory sweep of the battleground reveals the loss of one set card on Shun's field; it's not hard to put two and two together.

"Kurosaki," Yuuya repeats like a prayer. Shun doesn’t turn or otherwise acknowledge his existence, nothing but a tiny nod, an infinitesimal jerk of the chin. Yuuya exhales long and slow before turning his attention back to the field, heartbeat calmer but stronger now, the steadiest it's been since they ran into the Academia recon squad. And if his gaze returns to Shun a little more often than incredulous gratitude dictates—well, Yuuto's got more pressing concerns.

The ever-present shadow which accompanies him seethes and hums, a soundless vibrato that sends chills down where Yuuto imagines his spine might be. It is impatient, but Yuuya is no longer in the right frame of mind to receive it. Now that he is aware of the cruel entity dwelling within him, he’s been doing much better at suppressing it. But not without assistance.

The demon can wait.

It has been waiting a long time.

* * *

Yuuya is kind to others where he is hard on himself, the gentlest of hypocrisies transmuting into his own physical exhaustion, muscles sore and limbs weary and dragging Yuuto along for the ride.

One duel at a time.

They both spend less and less time sleeping now. Yuuto needs to stay awake with him, needs to know when Yuuya will need him, because if the darkness succeeds in taking full advantage of his one corporeal weakness again he will never forgive himself—and if there is enough of Yuuya left when it is over, neither will he.

Yuuto does not know what happens to him when he sleeps. In truth, he calls it such only because he has no better words; he has not dreamt since before he died, and now only passes the dormant hours insensate and aware of nothing.

_mine_

Some days, he’s not even sure he really exists anymore, or if the memory of his life before was an illusion constructed to keep himself sane.

Those tend to be bad days, days when Yuuya shuts himself away and won’t come out even for Gongenzaka (who’s known him long enough to leave him alone when he gets like this, but Yuuya always, always has a smile for Reira), days when Yuuto longs for oblivion, anything to restore his autonomy and _end this_.

Even so, he has to believe he was real; he can see it in the way Yuuya catches Shun looking at him sometimes, otherwise unwarranted interest in a flickering scowl like he can’t quite work him out and doesn’t care enough to try. Shun knew him, knows him still, saw him but once after and clings to that memory like a lifeline. Shun believes in Yuuto, even when Yuuto doesn’t—after all, what are friends for?

For Shun, then, he will fight, so that neither of them will have to reach for Ruri alone. For Shun and Ruri and for Yuuya, who pushes and shoves and doubts himself under the weight of so many expectations, he will fight in the only way left to him.

This is all he can do for them now. He only hopes it will be enough.

* * *

In hindsight, he should have realised that it's in Yuuya’s nature to attract attention, the focus of his own personal spotlight, and in all the time he has spent watching over Yuuya he should have noticed sooner that he is not the only one.

* * *

Shun catches up to them in an empty alleyway.

He’s cheerful as ever today, Yuuto thinks, with his habitual scowl in place, fingers clenching and unclenching absently as if itching to close around someone’s throat. Unfortunately, Yuuya is the only other person in the vicinity, and as much as Yuuto misses his friend’s familiar company he isn’t sure he’d particularly enjoy the sensation of his host being throttled. Yuuya appears to reach the same conclusion, flashing a wary sidelong glance at Shun and making to hurry past.

“Wait.”

Shun looks uneasy now, somehow managing to combine determination and purposefulness with the look of a man about to have his teeth forcibly removed, but he stops, so Yuuya stops too, eyes wide with surprised curiosity.

“A-ah, Kurosaki, what can I do for you?” Yuuto doesn't need his privileged insider's perspective—fingers twitching as Yuuya tries not to fidget, heart rate picking up with a flutter of hope (apprehension, dread) that maybe this will be the conversation where they finally, _finally_ exchange more than ten words—to tell he’s nervous.

“Yuuto,” Shun says stiffly, not quite meeting his eye, and Yuuya deflates instantly.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he means it, just like he's done every other time Shun's deigned to speak to him (this makes, what, the fourth time in as many months); perhaps Shun hadn't believed him—or simply hadn’t cared—before, but now his averted gaze snaps to attention, zeroing in on Yuuya's downcast face as if trying to prise what he _isn't_ saying out of him by sheer force of will.

It feels horribly _invasive_ for Yuuto to be privy to a conversation where he can not only hear everything but read both parties’ body language with ease, neither one aware of his conscious presence. They must make a strange sight standing stock still in the middle of the deserted Commons alley, one boy staring dejectedly at his feet, eyes unseeing, the other regarding him sharply as a wild falcon would a tiny sparrow—head held unnervingly still, golden eyes blazing, unsure what to make of the interloper too small and tense to bother eating.

Yuuto senses the snaking ribbon of Yuuya’s mind once more, a brilliant quicksilver stream branching into thin tendrils and reaching out, probing, searching for him, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t quite grasp them, can’t let Yuuya know he’s there.

Then all at once the tendrils withdraw, reluctantly abandoning their fruitless efforts, not quite as lustrous as before. Yuuya’s shoulders slump, heavy with disappointment and guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, raising his eyes imploringly, “I can’t—I don’t know _how_ —”

For a fleeting instant the tension in Shun’s brow slackens, scowl twisting and changing into something not so bitter but no less pained for it. For a moment Yuuto recognises the soft-hearted boy his best friend once was, who Shun can’t allow himself to be anymore, and he aches where his heart should be (where Yuuya’s heart is instead).

Yuuya’s chest does tighten as if in response to their loss, as if he somehow knows who Shun was and who he is now, and when he imagines that Yuuya’s heart beating heavy in grief by proxy is his own Yuuto hates that since his death he’s never felt more alive.

* * *

They find the girl named Rin on a tattered library card—made from real card stock, not the electronic barcode kind used everywhere but the rundown brick building the Commons citizens call a library.

Despite prior experience the photo’s resemblance still comes as a shock; only when Yuuto gets past the face does he notice the shorter, curlier hair and amber eyes, Yuuya’s chest tightening as he too recognises someone else in her.

Shun takes the card from Yuuya’s unresisting fingers, expression flat as he glances at the picture a breath too long before flipping the card over. Yuuya squints at the smudged white pasteboard covered in the precise, tiny handwriting of someone perhaps not used to the task, someone who had taken pains to learn, overlapping in places with a childish, jagged scrawl.

“It’s a list,” Yuuya says in surprise, and it is, a short list of what must be book titles written in faded ink, surrounded by truly dreadful doodles of (presumably) motorcycles and trophies.

Shun peers closer at the crowded writing. “ _Yuusei Gear_ … _City Children's Big Encyclopedia_ …” He frowns, going down the list. “ _Sheet Metal Fabrication_ … _Custom D-Wheel Assembly Manual_?” He flips the card back and regards the picture for longer this time, expression softening into something fondly bittersweet. Yuuya and Yuuto watch him with apprehension; Shun’s never been unpredictable, but since Ruri vanished he’s been prone to fits of impulsivity, his role as the older sibling twisting and spurring him on to reach her by any means necessary.

“Ruri would love to watch a Riding Duel,” he says, not taking his eyes off the photo. She would, Yuuto thinks; Ruri always did like an action-packed spectacle, a preference it seems all her counterparts have in common.

“Yuzu would, too,” Yuuya agrees. He eyes Shun carefully, hands clenched to hide his nervousness. “Maybe someday, when we find them—”

Shun jerks his head to look at him, the automatic anger in his eyes banking at Yuuya’s determined gaze. Gently Yuuya covers the hand holding Rin’s card with his own, a light touch Shun could flinch away from if he wanted to. Shun’s hand is warm, and so is Yuuya; Yuuto feels the heat creeping up his neck, pulse quickening in a way that it never does outside of dueling.

“We _will_ find them, Kurosaki,” Yuuya insists, voice quiet but steady. “I promise you that.”

Shun looks at Yuuya as if seeing him, really _seeing_ him for the first time, opens his mouth as if to speak and settles for a firm nod instead. The card changes hands with a press of fingers, Yuuya busying himself tucking it back into the engineering textbook it was found in.

His fingers are tingling, Yuuto realises—the skin feels like how glow-in-the-dark stars look. Yuuya gets less food and rest than he ought, and the poor sanitation of the Commons areas they’ve been scouring for Yuzu leaves much to be desired; Yuuto wonders, distractedly, what would happen to him if Yuuya fell seriously ill in this place.

Yuuya doesn’t seem concerned, slipping the book back on the shelf and hurrying to the entrance, where Shun has gone ahead. Shun looks down at him a shade this side of uncomfortable, and Yuuto wants to pummel him just a little, as friends do, and tell him to knock it off with the unnerving stares already.

“She looks like Ruri,” Shun says at last, “but she’s not her.” His gaze holds Yuuya frozen, sizing him up, assessing him. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

He sweeps out of the library leaving Yuuya to follow, still warm, and even Yuuto isn’t sure whether his words meant something or nothing at all.

* * *

The hardest thing is when Yuuya cries in the night: for his father long gone, his mother left behind, his best friend ripped away from her home. He scrunches up on the crisp bedsheets in the Council-sponsored room that now acts as a gilded cage, goggles left to dangle around his neck as he allows himself this weakness, sobs turning into muffled screams against his hands until his throat is raw and his eyes are stinging.

With or without a body Yuuto can offer no comfort; the force that drove him and Shun drives Yuuya as well and he knows Yuuya cannot go home, not yet, not until he can return Yuzu safely to her father. As for Yuuto—

There is no home for a phantom doppelgänger. Yuuya is the closest he has, now.

The shadow is surprisingly dormant at times like this, as if even it does not wish to cause their host further pain when he’s in this state. It’s a small mercy to Yuuto; it’s hard enough keeping the creature away when he doesn't always know where it is in relation to him, or where he is in relation to everything else, or if there’s even any spiritual topography to speak of without a point of reference.

Can he even be considered real? Oh, he knows he was before, but there is nobody, nobody to acknowledge him now; Shun has not seen him since they left Maiami, Yuuya cannot hear him, and all that is left is the violent spectre that will leave neither the living nor the dead be. He can’t always control the creature, hanging by a thread at the best of times; what difference would it make to any of them, then, if he disappeared? Would Dark Rebellion vanish with its old master, or remain to serve the new?

Will he linger even after they save their friends, a ghost observing the life that could have been his?

As if mirroring his morbid misgivings, the only part of Yuuya Yuuto should be able to reach and can't pulses dark, unrecognisable as the heart and soul of a dazzling entertainer. Grief tastes of bile and tears, palpable in this place of distorted senses; Yuuto feels Yuuya's shoulders shaking as he leans over the side of the mattress and retches dry, body punishing him for his weaknesses, his failure to protect his best friends, his inability to take care of himself.

Sunk this low, Yuuto could welcome the trifling pain as, at the very least, proof that he hasn’t lost yet another body. But he’s not Yuuya, he's _not_ , and this is a blessing because he wouldn't wish the fall of Heartland (hometown in flames, the tower once the pride and symbol of the city bent and broken and crumbling) on anyone. Remembering the city as it was makes it all the harder; the sleek, straight, almost _boring_ towers of Maiami and the skyscraper/slum dichotomy of Neo Domino City are a far cry from the whimsical curls of Heartland architecture, the brilliant lights of the colourful city enchanting adults as well as children, the buildings alone delighting the citizens in ways Standard duelists could only achieve on the field.

But what difference will it make, when Academia has laid waste to bright and bland alike?

At least they’re together, he reminds himself after Yuuya has finally quietened and fallen asleep, seeking temporary refuge from his own thoughts. Not he and the creature he coexists with, but he and the boy he trusted enough to leave his precious dragon to—even if Yuuya can’t see or hear him, may never notice if Yuuto ceases to be—at least Yuuto can do this, can stay with him as the only one who will not be taken away.

He has no choice at all, but he makes one nevertheless.

* * *

It’s the fourth group of Academia students they’ve encountered in the three hours since the remaining Lancers set out to explore the dusty Heartland streets, throwing themselves at the scattered band for sport at first, then with increasing fervour like they’d die rather than give up their sadistic game.

Dark Rebellion roars, and Yuuto follows suit, unheard. Yuuya’s shouting, he feels his jaw working and throat trembling with desperation given a voice, but Yuuto doesn’t hear a word over his dragon’s cry.

He will never, never forgive them for what they’ve done. It’s something he’s never needed to think about, but now that he is once more in the smoking ruins of his beloved city and the cry for vengeance is boiling at the forefront of his mind, the appropriate course of action is laughably obvious.

_punishment_

Why not?

_why not_

_do it makethem_ **_pay_ **

_yes_ no no _yes yes yesyesyes_ no stop it **stop** _yes yes_ **_yes_ **

Yuuya screams, one long note that does not end, a sound from before words; it speaks of rage and malice and a promise of pain.

Perhaps the Academia students sense something has changed about their opponent, but there’s little time to dwell on it as Yuuto and his dragon call for blood, and Yuuya strikes the enemy down without coherent thought, and the revelling demon makes demons of them both.

“ _Sakaki!_ ”

Yuuya is strong, but Gongenzaka is stronger; he is thrown hard to the ground thrashing and writhing, Gongenzaka forcing his legs still with a vice-like grip around his ankles as Shun sits heavily on his chest, bearing his weight down on Yuuya’s wrists.

“Yuuya!”

“Damn it all, Sakaki, snap out of it!” Shun roars, bending so close Yuuto can pick out the faint olive tones in his golden eyes.

Yuuya strikes like a snake, headbutting Shun with such speed and force Yuuto half-expects the sickening _crack_ of his neckbone or the crunch of a skull fracturing. Shun hisses, momentarily releases his wrists to clutch at his forehead.

Yuuya’s hands shoot for his throat.

“ _Kurosaki!_ ”

“ _Hell_ you fucking don’t,” Shun spits as he wrestles their captive’s arms back to the ground, waving away Gongenzaka’s concern. He grips Yuuya’s wrists with enough pressure to bruise, glaring down at him with grim determination and managing to look impressive despite the rapidly swelling lump on his forehead. He leans down, not close enough to strike but not far enough to seem afraid of being struck, and says nothing.

Yuuya thrashes under their combined weight, screaming wordless threats as the shadows within him toss Yuuto about in a maelstrom of impotent fury. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but he hadn’t realised just how much control he still had before until it was wrested from him. The immediate threat has been eliminated but it’s not enough, never enough, not until all of Academia is razed to the ground and its inhabitants’ bodies litter the streets.

Doesn’t Shun understand? Wasn’t this what he’d wanted, when he’d been sealing even Maiami citizens in cards in pursuit of Akaba Leo? Yuuto should have helped him, he wants to tell him that, he should have gone personally and destroyed anyone who got in the way. Why is Shun getting in the way now?

Yuuya struggles and flails for what feels like days, nowhere to go but attempting to rise and being shoved back down, nowhere to look but Shun’s implacable glare; and Shun stays, and stays, and is still there after Yuuya has successfully kicked Gongenzaka in the jaw and Sawatari (alerted by their shouts) in the chest, still there when they take him back to their temporary base, still there when they strap him down to a camp bed and leave him be until he exhausts himself.

He’s still there in the morning when both Yuuya and Yuuto come to, slouched in a chair pulled up next to the bed, head lolling to one side in slumber with his arms folded loosely over his chest. Yuuto aches in places he doesn’t have anymore, raw and shredded and in no shape to fend off even a curling wisp of smoke, but at least his abyssal companion feels no stronger than one, wearing itself out like a child after throwing a colossal tantrum. Yuuya peers blearily at the ceiling, still restrained to the bed; he turns his head gingerly, still throbbing with pain, and looks at Shun.

Several things happen in rapid succession; Yuuya’s heart skips a beat so abruptly even Yuuto finds it in his wrung-out state to panic, the door is flung back with a crash as Sawatari enters the room to ensure they haven’t murdered each other in the night, and Shun wakes with a start and topples off his chair.

Yuuto is not privy to Yuuya’s thoughts and dreams, but he’s gradually learning to read his bodily reactions with a fair degree of accuracy.

He doesn’t like what he’s reading now.

* * *

The Spade branch of Heartland Academy is as broken and abandoned as every other official building in the city, the crumbling mortar and lingering smell of smoke making the memory of the Commons facilities a bustling paradise in comparison.

They walk in silence, nothing but the sound of footsteps, hushed and reverent as if out of respect for the casualties of war. Shun knows exactly where he’s going, peering into some rooms and ignoring others altogether; Yuuto recognises them as their old classroom, the gymnasium, cafeteria, auditorium, the duel practice room they often booked together with Ruri—all familiar haunts of the Resistance. But the building continues to exhibit no sign of life, and Shun stalks off down the hallways quickening his pace like an increasingly vengeful ghost.

He stops at a familiar row of lockers, automatically spinning the broken combination lock before cursing and yanking the door open, the sound echoing down the halls; Yuuya standing behind him glimpses a stack of books and a couple of loose card sleeves before he slams it shut. Yuuto’s locker a couple of doors down is slightly dented but none the worse for wear, and Shun opens it next, spinning the dial with practiced ease.

The same stack of books for classes Yuuto will never attend again, a dusty navy jacket folded in the back, loose change on the floor. And a photo, taped to the inside of the door.

Yuuto doesn’t remember just when they took it. It had been a day like any other, the three of them hanging out in the park after school, Ruri probably asking Sayaka or Kaito to take the photo to commemorate nothing in particular. Shun had complained then, putting on a show of token resistance, but he says nothing now, doesn’t touch the picture or do anything but look.

Yuuya presses a palm to the door, below where Shun’s hand is still curled around the edge. The metal is cool against his skin, dry and gritty with dust but smooth to the touch underneath.

“Her smile is beautiful,” he says softly, not looking at Shun. Shun looks down at him, but it’s different now, no more fury in his eyes or bitterness in the twist of his mouth (at least, none directed at Yuuya).

“She was always smiling,” Shun says, quiet as well, in the way large, empty buildings tend to command. “She’d like you, you know,” he adds, fingers tightening on the cool metal of the door. “She used to say duels were meant to make people smile.”

Yuuya’s heartbeat picks up again, only this time Yuuto doesn’t think it’s the result of illness. Yuuya smiles at Shun for the first time without the nervous tension he usually carries in his presence, tentative and hopeful, although for what exactly Yuuto doesn’t know.

“After we save everyone,” he begins slowly, fingers fidgeting and shifting until they’re curled around the door edge, leaving a clear trail through the dust. Shun’s fingers relax and he smiles back, brief and bright and warm as a guttering candle, heating Yuuya from the inside out. And the smile is a new feature too; Yuuto realises abruptly that this is the first time he’s seen it since Ruri was taken away.

“I’ll be sure to introduce you,” Shun agrees, finally moving away from the lockers. Yuuya glances back at them as they walk away; the smudged, dusty handprints left behind make the flush creep up to his ears, and Yuuto seriously contemplates becoming deader than he already is.

* * *

Kaito walks with them through the Resistance hideout.

Yuuya’s explained the situation to him as best he can, and he can’t help Kaito visualise Yuuto just by wishing, but the one glimpse Kaito had was enough to keep him at his side asking question after question, determined to see his friend again.

In a way, he’s more persistent than Shun ever was. Kaito’s told Yuuya everything he knows of Sakaki Yushou, how he appeared out of nowhere three years ago and became an overnight sensation, how he awed and inspired the entire Clover dueling school with his philosophy and flashy showmanship, how he vanished as abruptly as he appeared, just when they needed him most.

In exchange, Kaito’s heard the minute details of Yuuya’s encounters with Yuuto before he died, including how the first time they spoke to one another was the last.

It’s nothing to base a trusting relationship on, in retrospect. But Yuuto doesn’t regret his decision to give Yuuya his dragon, especially if, as he half-suspects, Dark Rebellion was meant to be with Odd-Eyes all along. There’s an old Heartland legend that claims Duel Monsters have souls, and if that’s true Dark Rebellion would never have been satisfied with an unworthy master.

Not that he can explain this to Kaito. His friend remains discontented with Yuuya’s unsatisfactory answers, but there isn’t a whole lot either of them can do. Yuuya’s clearly frustrated too, largely with himself; it feels like they’ve been orbiting one another for ages, desperate for contact but never getting close enough.

Kaito frowns. “What about Ruri? Did you see her?” Yuuya shakes his head despondently.

“We never found her, or Rin—the one from the Synchro dimension—but Serena and Yuzu—” Yuuya’s jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. They’ve lost all four now, and it stings all the more after Yuuya had finally been reunited with his best friend after searching for so long, after he’d sworn to her face he’d bring her home to Maiami.

“I wouldn’t have believed it,” Kaito admits, “that there could be people so alike in different dimensions. But you’re here, and Yuuto’s inside you somehow—Yuuya, what are you going to do if this happens again?”

_we will become one_

Yuuya flinches, hand automatically coming up to clutch his pendulum. It’s not a new thought, but Yuuto’s never wanted to dwell on it for long. Maybe Yuugo isn’t an agent of Academia like he’d originally believed, but that doesn’t mean he trusts him in this place, where he alone spent so long learning to combat the creature, to understand and help Yuuya as best he could.

As for Yuuri—

Some questions, Yuuto decides, are best left unanswered.

* * *

They’re alive.

The (half-true) thought buoys Yuuto up on a wave of fatigue, a sentiment clearly shared by Yuuya as he staggers off the field, bruised and battered and _victorious_. Every muscle screams in protest at each movement, rebelling against their overuse without respite—but here and now, they’re alive.

The shadow is tense, dissatisfaction leaving a bitter taste in the spaces Yuuto touches; not once has Yuuya or Yuuto let it so much as rear its head since that first day in Heartland. Yuuto could almost feel sympathy for his unwilling companion. He knows, and Yuuya knows all too well how frustrating it is for a goal to be just within reach, then violently yanked from your grasp; even so, with victories like this under their belt it becomes easier to believe they can rescue their friends and win this war.

Victory is only ever hard-won these days, it seems; Yuuya sways, lurches to keep his balance, body tucking to protect his duel disk above all else. Agony shoots up his leg as he stumbles on a block of stray debris, arms too limp even to raise to protect his head as he falls forward.

The impact is softer and more upright than expected; Yuuya forces his eyes open only to be met with a broad expanse of dark cloth, hands rough with calluses gripping his upper arms to steady him.

“Yuuya,” a familiar voice calls, very close at hand.

“ _Mmmff,_ ” Yuuya manages, faint and growing fainter, voice muffled by the cloth he has no particular wish to part with.

“ _Yuuya_ ,” is the stern answer. Finally Yuuya shifts his weary arms with reluctance and peels himself off, squinting up into the face of his tag partner, and stops dead.

Yuuto has never seen this expression on Shun’s face before; the rage dimmed by victory and turned into triumph, the adrenaline and excitement from an intense duel, the sheer relief that they’re still alive are all familiar to him. But there’s something soft in the set of his jaw, concern for his tag partner etched plainly across his features ( _what would I do without you?_ ), that fierce warmth in his golden eyes usually reserved for Ruri, only in them now Yuuto can clearly make out the reflection of Yuuya’s wide-eyed gaze.

It’s creeping him the fuck out.

He feels Yuuya’s cheeks heating up fast as a fever and his heart pounding like a jackhammer, sinks all his remaining energy into physically _hurling_ this body backwards and fails, wishes he were anywhere but here as his best friend reaches out to cup his palm against his (Yuuya’s) face; he almost considers it a blessing when Yuuya’s eyes flutter closed and steal his vision away.

For an agonising moment there’s nothing but hot air on his ( _Yuuya’s_ ) face, the sound of Shun’s harsh breathing, then the forceful press of lip on split lip, hard and unyielding and a long time coming. There’s nothing sweet or tender about the act in itself, the sticky, clumsy force a jarring contrast with the way Shun's thumb ghosts cautiously over Yuuya’s cheekbone, as if he’s afraid further rough handling could break the boy; through a fog of numb horror Yuuto dimly registers his other hand still gripping Yuuya’s arm like a lifeline, as if to let go would be to fall away. Yuuya surges forward with newfound energy and kisses back immediately in turn, hard and desperate like he's never wanted anything more in his life, overworked hands seizing Shun by the coat and keeping him anchored regardless of—even seeking out, _welcoming_ —the bruising pressure.

Yuuto tastes the iron tang of his best friend’s blood on two pairs of lips, neither of which are his.

* * *

Everything changes, though nothing between them.

There isn’t time, not in the tumultuous period following the end of Heartland’s occupation; not every Obelisk Force soldier has taken kindly to Edo Phoenix’s change of heart, and routing the dissenters (not an elite combat unit for nothing) delays the proposed attack on Academia by several days. The aftermath of the comparatively brief conflict sees a small but significant depletion of their forces; Shun’s been absent from the Resistance base—no longer a hideout, the survivors still gather in the old dojo, a placeholder until Heartland Tower is restored—nearly a week, recovering from the injuries he sustained from falling debris, and Allen and Sayaka have been called away to aid rescue efforts as they venture further into the wreckage of the residential districts.

Yuuya doesn’t cry alone in the dark anymore. Even in the absence of the Resistance members he’s come to know, he has no lack of companions; it’s not the same as seeing his father in the flesh, but trading stories with Kaito and Edo has given him a piece of his beloved idol back, able to clear Sakaki Yushou’s name, to know for certain that far from being a coward, he had been fighting in this war from the start.

And Yuuya with such a weight off his mind is not the same as before; the war is not yet won but his hope and optimism are infectious, flaring bright and warm at the core whenever he speaks of finding his father and Yuzu, the certainty of it a tangible thing. Yuuto still cannot reach him, but after his connection with Kaito (however brief) he doesn’t feel so far off and isolated, his desire to be heard no longer a vain hope. One day, perhaps one day soon, and in the meantime Yuuya’s improved mood can only help to suppress the demon inside him, whatever battles lie ahead.

It’s Gongenzaka, rather than the impatient Sawatari, who suggests they leave without Shun.

It’s far from ideal by any means. Shun is formidable even among the other Lancers, and they’ve already left so many comrades in the Synchro dimension that they need every skilled duelist to hand. But if Edo’s right there’s no time to waste; they have to stop the Arc Area Project as soon as possible, and there’s no telling how soon Shun will be ready to move.

Yuuya doesn’t object as much as Yuuto expects. Yuuto isn’t entirely sure what this fragile thing is between them—if he’s honest, he’s been trying not to think about it, the memory of being forced to kiss his best friend still nauseatingly vivid, but even more chilling than the act itself was the way Shun looked at Yuuya after, like he’d found something he’d never known he wanted.

But it’s too early to think of such a future, and the information Edo’s divulged carries too much urgency to wait, and Yuuya’s come too far to stop now. They’ve had a little breathing room lately, with Heartland slowly but surely rebuilding itself brick by brick, but it’s finally time to stop running and go where it feels like they’ve been headed all along.

One way or another, the war is coming to an end.

* * *

The war ends, but it doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s impossible to tell where souls end and body begins, all control smashed to pieces as Yuuri taunts Yuuya with the card sealing Sakaki Yushou, the pain of his father vanishing for the last time too much to bear. The demon—Zarc, they know now—is barely noticeable, even its corrupting influence only serving to amplify rather than overtake Yuuya’s immense grief and rage.

How many dear friends have already been lost? And even if they do manage to reverse the card-sealing technology, which Edo had assured Yuuya was possible under specific circumstances, there is no such guarantee for the infernal machine that has permanently ripped Ruri and Yuzu away from them. Academia is too small a target; how can Yuuto ever be satisfied when one of his best friends is beyond saving, when there is nothing but vengeful dueling left to strive for?

Start with him, then, with this sadistic fiend Yuuto cannot imagine was ever a part of him.

“Don’t let your father get in our way!” Yuuri singsongs now, flourishing a hand in mocking perversion of a lover’s beckoning fingers. “You should be honest with yourself; don’t you _want_ to become one with me?”

_we will become one_

And oh, Yuuya does, and so does Yuuto, the longing for it momentarily eclipsing the fury that seems to seep from beneath the skin. It would be so easy to approach—

“Yuuya!”

It’s Akaba Reiji who breaks the spell, his voice the only clear thing in this hazy place of warring desires and distorted scenery, the dimensions already beginning to warp and merge together. The urgency of the situation seems to clear Yuuya’s head a little, and he stands taller, bolstered by Reiji’s inexplicable faith in him.

Yuuya always did have a tendency to attract attention in unlikely places; Yuuto just wishes Yuuri wasn’t included on the list.

Yuuri is as distasteful on the battlefield as he is off it, dripping with suggestive mockery tailored to draw the strongest reactions from Yuuya. Yuuto finds it in himself to feel pity for Yuugo now; with or without Zarc, Yuuri’s body cannot be a hospitable one to dwell in. He can hear something of Yuugo in Clear Wing’s cry, Yuuri’s disgusting dragon roaring with it, and still he feels the tug towards their opponent when the dragons on Yuuya’s field shriek in response.

_we will become one_

Yuuri activates yet another grotesque card— _“I’ll take control of Dark Rebellion Xyz Dragon!”_ —and Yuuto feels a cold hand wrap around Yuuya’s heart, freezing him to the spot.

No. He’d promised, hadn’t he, that he would never be taken from Yuuya?

Dark Rebellion roars, joining its long-lost fellows on Yuuri’s field, and Yuuto _feels_ himself for the first time in a long while, the oddest sensation of being removed but still distantly present in Yuuya, like a bud severed from its parent plant and grafted onto another. The sensation of Yuuya’s body grows fainter until it’s nothing but an echo, reverberating faintly in his soul as he somehow crosses the field without moving, one moment fully contained within Yuuya’s body and the next at Yuuri’s side.

The stunned, utterly bereft look on Yuuya’s face is the last thing Yuuto sees before the cold acceptance of Yuuri’s mind crashes into him, tidal wave of delirium filling him whole.

It’s unlike anything Yuuto’s ever felt, intoxicating to be with someone who doesn’t hold back, who embraces his desires with hedonistic, yet not reckless fervour. There is no painful resistance here, no fighting that does not advance Yuuri’s aim of taking Yuuya into himself; is this what Yuugo feels in Yuuri, free to express and act on their shared wish?

If anything the demon’s voice is even louder here, unrelenting as the dragons’ shadows that chase each other across the walls. How could Yuuya resist this? He must _become one_ so that he will never be hurt again; surely he can trust Yuuto, who knows him better than anyone else.

Yuuri extends his hand to Yuuya in invitation, and Yuuto adds his silent voice to the roar of the dragons.

_we will_

* * *

_We have become one._

How could he have been so afraid before? The four of them are safe here; together they are stronger than any other, together they will never again know loneliness or grief, pain or loss. And loudest of all, a fifth presence speaks in a familiar voice.

_Mine._

They will never be alone again. Yuugo and Yuuri are here with them now, and isn’t it wonderful, to all be part of something so much bigger and grander than yourself, to not even know something was missing until you found it?

Ah—so this, then, must be love.

It is a joy to be able to share not one but three others’ thoughts, to feel as they feel when before Yuuto’s communication with Yuuya had been one-sided and solely reliant on physicality and guesswork. In this private world for four Yuuto feels Yuuya’s eagerness to perform as all eyes remain on Zarc’s most _entertaining_ duel yet, Yuugo’s competitiveness crowing with triumph as Zarc lays waste to all challengers, Yuuri’s complacent pleasure at the frustration of Zarc’s opponents mingling with slight disgruntlement that he was not the last of the four to remain standing.

Nothing before matters now. All there is left is dueling and they can’t possibly lose, not when the strongest each dimension has to offer—city rulers and military commanders, prodigies and champions, _Kaito and Shun_ —have thrown themselves against Zarc and failed. Even Akaba Leo has fallen to them twice; who could possibly stand against the king of dragons, the greatest duelist the dimensions have ever known?

A sharp chill cuts through the fog of self-satisfaction like a lightning bolt, and the four of them stir restlessly.

Something’s not right. Among the arrogance and complacency is a rising cloud of fear, cloying and dusty enough to choke, and through Zarc’s eyes they see _Reira_ standing alone on the broken bridge.

Yuuya squirms. There is no glory in defeating a child, and Zarc holds back for no one; but the inexplicable fear doesn’t go away, as they look down from their throne at all that determination held in such a small face.

“I—I’m not Reira!”

_You._

Reira looks nothing like Ray and therefore nothing like Ruri, but Yuuto hears her in Reira’s ( _Ray’s_ ) voice just the same. The fear thickens now, dense all around them, but even the king must abide by the rules, unable to retaliate as the cards that tore him apart a lifetime ago are deployed to finish the job.

It hurts. Even refashioned in Zarc’s image the dragons are still theirs, and their dragons’ pain is their pain; one by one they are destroyed, crying out for their master who cannot save them, and the king finally falls from his throne.

It hurts.

It… hurts?

On his hands and knees, _his_ hands and knees, scraped with debris and stinging with dust, pain greets Yuuto like an old friend. He reaches out with his mind, but the lights and shadows are gone, and the only voice he hears is his own. He looks up in disbelief, and past the child’s exterior, past the woman Zarc feared more than anything in the world, Ruri smiles at him.

_“Welcome back.”_

* * *

Akaba Leo once promised that the four dimensions recombined would create a utopia, where the formerly divided inhabitants could coexist in peace and harmony.

It’s oversimplified and naïve, but they’re doing the best they can.

Yuuto scoops the change off the bottom of his locker and swings the door shut, only half-listening to Yuugo yak about the new off-road tyres he’s saving up for, walking out of the school building and into the afternoon sunshine. They walk to the park (Yuugo argues every time Yuuto forbids him from riding his D-Wheel there, but the after-school streets are just too busy to be safe), dodging pedestrians and traffic until the smooth pavement changes to well-kept lawn.

Shun and Ruri are waiting in the spot they’ve made their own, tucked away in a corner by the hedges, Kaito and Serena in tow. They’ve made a habit of meeting regularly, whoever can spare the time joining them for a few short hours to talk about nothing in particular, finding a sense of normality after the recent upheaval that feels longer ago than it is.

Ruri sits up against a maple tree, shoulder to shoulder with her brother as they discuss her strategy in her last duel with Sayaka, Kaito leaning a little way off and joining Yuuto in dropping a comment now and then. Serena’s found it a little harder than most to relax, Yuuto’s noticed, still tactlessly blunt and prone to fidgeting when kept in one place for too long, although at the very least she doesn’t challenge bystanders to duels out of restlessness anymore. She’s seated cross-legged on the grass now, heedless of the stains on her white skirt as she argues with Yuugo over a traffic violation warning he’s received, and although her voice is raised and her tone irritated Yuuto sees the amusement dancing in her eyes.

The hours are shorter today than usual. Yuuya, Yuzu and Sora are tied up teaching a class at You Show, Rin’s opted to spend the afternoon elbow-deep in gears and grease with Crow, Yuuri only appears where he wants to be, and so on; but with a group as large and unlikely as theirs, forged through the best and the worst, it’s rare that many of them manage to be in the same place at all.

Kaito leaves first, something about picking his little brother up from a play date, then Yuugo, probably planning to drool all over the coveted tyres until he gets kicked out of the store. Yuuya and Yuzu arrive a little later, out of breath from running; Yuzu links arms with Ruri who accepts with glee, jutting her free elbow towards Serena, both of them giving the flustered girl puppy-dog eyes until she haltingly slips her arm through.

Rin’s gone on ahead from Crow’s house, this weekly visit yet another reminder that not everything is back to normal. Things are still rocky in the Akaba household, but Reira smiles freely now, no longer possessing that terrified look when his mother speaks to him, gentler and more remorseful than before. And his mother and brother smile more, too, free from the burden they carried in secret for three years. But Akaba Leo—

There’s been no sign of Ray since the day Zarc was defeated, her spirit departing from her child host when her duty was fulfilled. Zarc isn’t missed (although sometimes Yuuto catches Yuuya clutching his pendulum, eyes unseeing, full of sadness for the king of dragons who went mad trying to please), but the four girls return to Akaba Leo’s lab every week, allowing him to examine their minds and delve into their hearts, scanning for a trace of his only daughter who saved the world.

The girls depart arm in arm, then it’s just Yuuto with Yuuya and Shun, the situation perhaps more familiar than either of them think. Yuuya will never know just how long he spent inside him, how much he could feel and how much he couldn’t do, the sense of helplessness overwhelming. He isn’t sure if he’s ready to tell anyone, if he’ll ever be ready, but maybe this is something he doesn’t have to talk about for it to be shared.

Yuuto walks a little way with Yuuya and Shun, listening to Yuuya talk about the kids at his duel school, about his scheduled tag duel with his father in a month’s time, about one of the cats at home that sometimes looks at him the way Yuuri does, as if it knows a damaging secret and won’t say what it is. At this last topic Shun looks like he’s heard something truly horrific, but then for a long time this was his general expression by default, and in any case they’re talking about Yuuri.

They part ways at the mall, Yuuya talking now about getting Shun to see a new animated film about birds (Shun objects without bite in his voice, and Yuuto suspects he’ll not only watch it but pay for Yuuya’s ticket and popcorn, too). He waves goodbye to the pair and turns homeward, glancing back as he nears the corner; Yuuya’s furtively slipped his hand into Shun’s, their fingers interlocking automatically, that same warmth from the first time he kissed Yuuya plain on Shun’s face.

Maybe Yuuto isn’t the only one keeping secrets, but at least he’s a lot better at it than his best friends are.

Even after everything he can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for Zarc; he knows what it is to be trapped in a body not your own, with no control over its actions, nothing but a helpless observer. At the very least, he can be an accommodating host.

_I’m not Yuuya,_ he thinks, and the faint, weakened demon inside him stirs in response. _I can’t be an entertainer like you wanted, but you’re stuck with me._

It’s not love, far from it, but it’s a start.

_mine_

No one needs to know about him, and it, and them.

**Author's Note:**

> I fell for arc v for its potential, and even if it fell short it led me to so many people I don't know who I'd be without  
>   
> thank you, arc v  
> 


End file.
